


Better Luck Next Time

by HannahkinSkywalker



Series: What Would One Call A Relationship Between Two Psychotic Murderers? [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Immortal falls in love with a mortal, M/M, it all falls to shit, well it's the story we all know, yaaaaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahkinSkywalker/pseuds/HannahkinSkywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim had long since died, and the Master had completely broken before he found any chance of building himself back again. But it couldn't ever be that simple, could it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Luck Next Time

It’s always the same story. An Immortal man – strong, yet broken, weary but with so much to do – falls for a Mortal – far younger, just as intelligent but still capable of the excitement the Immortal had lost. That was the way it was with the Master and James Moriarty. Most Timelords who were stupid enough to fall for a human had to suffer the joy of their loved one growing old. They’d have… what, forty, fifty years together? And then _poof._ Gone. It wasn’t such a complicated notion, was it?

But these two hadn’t even had that long. Five years they’d been together, that was all. The Master hadn’t even been there when James died. The criminal’s Tiger hadn’t been around, and he somehow managed to get himself killed. A stab wound straight to the abdomen. It wasn’t how he’d ever planned to go, but apparently it was good enough for him to die. The Master had come back to earth, late as usual, to find an empty flat. He’d searched for about three weeks before he heard any news. Moriarty was gone, or at least those were the rumours running around the criminal underworld. The Master refused to believe it. His James wasn’t dead. He’d made a promise to himself; he’d do whatever he could to prolong the human’s life, even if it meant giving up his regenerations. It wouldn’t happen while he was around.

But that was the problem. He hadn’t been around. He finally found the truth from Moran; the one James had so often called his Tiger. The Master couldn’t understand why until he met the sniper, but he still demanded to know what was going on. The news struck the Master a little harder than he’d originally expected, but it hurt Moran more. After all, when blame began to shift, it was clear a Tiger was no match for a Timelord.

The Master had nothing holding him to earth now. What was he supposed to do? He travelled, he moved constantly from place to place, arguing with the TARDIS, causing havoc and mayhem wherever he went. It was almost as if James had never existed. Of course, that was a complete lie. The Master was hollowed out, carved up from the inside and it seemed impossible to stop himself from feeling.. _This._ He didn’t even know what _this_ was anymore. Any differentiation of emotions faded out with the scent of the younger human on his pillow. He tried to distract himself with countless murders, torturing those around him and himself to get rid of James’ voice that had long ago joined the drums in haunting him.

It had been about seventy years before he had an idea.

Everyone believed reincarnations were absolute bullshit, but the Timelords had always known better. How long had it been? Long enough. The Master couldn’t help but pace around the console room, trying to work out the nervous energy as it all came to him. James would be alive again, he was sure of it. It shouldn’t even be that hard to find him, reincarnations didn’t often move too far away from where they were originally born. Where had James said he’d first hailed from?

It was about twenty minutes before the Master was hurtling himself and the TARDIS through the time vortex, locating Glenageary’s coordinates and typing them into the TARDIS mainframe. He’d see his James soon. He’d have to build up an entirely new relationship, but he’d be the same man. If he managed to set off the right triggers, he might even be able to tap into James’ mind. He could see him again. A hopeful grin spread across his face, he couldn’t help it.

He’d trawled through the small Irish town for god knows how long before he saw the man his James had become. He was stood at the edge of a park, an indifferent expression on his face. Of course, that was to be expected, and the Master began to stride over to him, trying to think of something to say beforehand, so he wouldn’t stammer over his words.

He stopped.

James’ face lit up as a small, dark haired girl bounded up to him, approximately seven years old. He bent down in front of her, listening intently to whatever she was saying. He laughed, pressed a kiss to the top of the little girl’s head and led her away.

A family.

A fucking family.

The Master was silent. He didn’t follow James, and he didn’t want to. He stayed standing where he was for another few minutes, before he ushered himself away to avoid the cold, scandalous stare of a mother with a pram wandering past. He didn’t say anything. He left. The TARDIS whirred at him, as he seemed to wander aimlessly through the corridors.

 

So that was it.

Better luck next time.


End file.
